


boys, boys, boys (head is spinnin' thinking 'bout)

by heavenlyrare



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Based on a song, Based on an animation meme, Crushes, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Knowing Shiro, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Oblivious Hunk, flustered Lance, oblivious keith, pining lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 18:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14194701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenlyrare/pseuds/heavenlyrare
Summary: I need thatbad boyto do me right on a FridayAnd I need thatgood oneto wake me up on a SundayThatone from workcan come over on Monday nightI want ‘em allI want ‘em all~ o r ~Lance finds himself thinking about his teammates more than he'd like to admit.





	boys, boys, boys (head is spinnin' thinking 'bout)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO HELLO!!!!
> 
> I started watching a bunch of animation memes and this idea came to mind. Seeing how I can neither draw nor animate, I took the meme and put it into fic.
> 
> Definitely recommend listening to Charli XCX's song "Boys" either while reading, before reading, or after reading. The song is just great.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The sounds of metal clashing against metal bounced off the walls of the training room. Lance was tucked somewhere in a corner, nursing a space juice box as he quietly watched Keith go through the fourth—fifth?—level. The number didn’t matter. Keith himself was more important. The way he had a permanent scowl on his face as he swung his sword. The way his skin shone when the light hit it at a certain angle. The way he’d lift his shirt to wipe at his face, exposing his toned stomach and—

Lance brought his knees up to his chest, hiding his warm face from view. He needed to keep his thoughts under control. He didn’t mind appreciating Keith, who deserved to be appreciated, but he also didn’t need his thoughts straying into dangerous territory. The training room wasn’t the best place for it, after all. Stuck in his head, Lance was unaware that Keith had ended his training and was making his way over to him. He felt a foot nudge at him, making him peek from behind his knees, face still warm. He didn’t want Keith seeing how red he was and asking questions.

“Lance, did you hear me?” Keith asked.

Lance blinked owlishly. Did Keith say something to him?

Keith frowned. “I asked you if you wanted to spar.”

Lance forced an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry, I was…” _thinking about you,_ “thinking about food.”

“Watching _me_ do all the work made _you_ hungry?” Keith joked, his little half smile that made Lance’s heart swell replacing his earlier frown.

_Yes, but_ **_definitely_ ** _not for food._ “You just work so hard that I can’t help getting an appetite,” Lance reasoned. He reached out a hand, biting back a giddy grin as he felt Keith’s gloved hand press against his own. It was a stupid thing to get excited over, but he couldn’t help himself. While short and more out of convenience than anything else, Lance let himself savor the feeling of holding hands with Keith as he pulled Lance to his feet, arm flexing with the strength. _God,_ the strength that Keith had. “I can’t be the only one that’s hungry,” Lance said, holding onto Keith’s hand longer than necessary before letting his hand slip away.

Keith purses his lips in thought, and Lance shamelessly let himself stare. Even when Keith finally responded, he didn’t tear his gaze away. And if Keith noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

“I was going to do a little bit more training.” Keith gestured to the area behind him. “Maybe another round or two.”

Lance shook his head. “Just don’t kill yourself, okay?”

Keith smiled at him again before turning on his heel, leaving Lance flustered and quickly ducking out of the training room before Keith could notice. He strode through the Castle’s halls to the dining room and kitchen, mind a constant train of Keith, Keith, Keith, Ke—

_Hunk._

Hunk was in the kitchen, inspecting the goo machine. It had probably went on the fritz again. Or maybe Hunk was improving it so they’d have more options. Different colored goo for different flavors? Lance would give his right arm for that.

He quietly snuck up on Hunk, not wanting to disturb his work. He loved watching him work, loved hearing him ramble about his engineering stuff. He always got so passionate that Lance never failed to find it endearing. Where Lance saw Keith as mystery and badassery and sneaking out at night and hotness, Hunk was opposite. Hunk was cuddling and sleepy Sunday mornings and breakfast in bed. Hunk was dreamy sighs and goo-goo eyes, not lip biting and wet daydreams.

And Lance couldn’t get enough of either of them.

Hunk backed up from the goo machine, sitting on his calves as he let out a sigh. He wasn’t wearing his usual jacket and his sleeves were bunched up at his biceps, showing off his arms. His headband was wrapped around his wrist instead of his forehead, and he was dirty, covered in goo. A look that shouldn’t have been “good” or “bad” because goo was goo, but the sight somehow made Lance’s stomach flip.

What was going _on_ with him?

(He was pining. And he was pining hard.)

Hunk finally took notice of him, sending him a warm grin that could rival the sun and— _god_ , how did Lance get so lucky?

“Hey, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” Hunk apologized, which Lance waved off.

“You seemed to be busy.” Lance gestured to the goo machine. “Were you fixing it or…?” He asked.

“I started off fixing it, but then I ended up playing around. I wanted to see if we could get different options.” Hunk’s eyes twinkled like someone took a handful of stars and placed them there. Lance couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Wanna test it out?”

Lance was nodding before he realized. He swore that if Hunk asked him, he’d sacrifice a limb for his sake. He’d do anything for Hunk, but Hunk didn’t seem to realize just how much influence he held, and maybe Lance should be grateful for that. He watched as Hunk got to his feet and acquired a plate, which he filled with neon orange colored goo. Lance hoped it was orange flavored.

Topping it off with a spoon, Hunk handed the plate to Lance—well, _tried_ to. But Lance didn’t take it. He was feeling a little spoiled today, so it was no surprise when he said _“Feed me.”_ with a straight face. And it wasn’t more of a surprise when Hunk proceed to do so, feeding spoonfuls of goo into Lance’s mouth. It made Lance feel warm and tingly with persistent thoughts of him and Hunk being cutely domestic. Of Hunk always feeding him and spoiling him and _loving_ him.

Lance wouldn’t ask for a better life.

“How is it? Taste like oranges?” Hunk asked, eyes wide and full of anticipation. Cute. He was so _cute._

Lance was so caught up in Hunk, that he forgot he was supposed to be helping out. Focusing on the aftertaste of the goo, he nodded. There were hints of orange, so the goo must’ve tasted orange. He watched as joy swam in Hunk’s warm, brown eyes—like melted dark chocolate—and his face lit up like Christmas tree lighting. It was an expression that Lance would do anything for him to keep.

“That’s good! Then the others should taste like fruit, too— _ah,”_ Hunk said, voice rising in surprise at the end. He shifted the plate of goo to one hand, fingers splayed underneath. “You’ve got goo on your face,” he explained as he rubbed a thumb at the corner of Lance’s mouth, hand cupping his cheek. It stayed in that position for a bit longer than necessary, and Hunk probably didn’t mean anything by it, but Lance took every meaning possible into account. But the meaning he wanted the most—the one he _ached_ for—was the one where they would tilt their heads _just so_ and Hunk would lean down until Lance felt lips against his and their eyes would flutter closed and—

“You’re such a messy eater sometimes,” Hunk teased, pulling his hand away with a small grin, shaking Lance from his fantasies.

Right. Fantasies. _Wishes._

“You love me _and_ my messy eating,” Lance said, heart fluttering as Hunk’s grin widened at his words.

“Yeah, I do,” Hunk agreed, voice soft and silky and embracing Lance like one of Hunk’s own hugs. Although Hunk meant it in a friendly sense, Lance couldn’t help the way his face warmed, the way his heart skipped a beat. He hoped that Hunk wouldn’t comment on it, but this was _Hunk_ after all. Worry wart Hunk.

Lance felt his temperature rise as a hand pressed against his forehead. It was just a hand, but coupled with Hunk’s kind nature and worrying expression on his face, it served to fluster Lance even more. Man, having a crush blew even the simplest gestures out of proportion. Hunk was caring for him as a close friend—a best friend—and here he was painting it in a romantic light. He wondered how Hunk would take it if he was honest about his feelings.

“You’re really red and warm,” Hunk observed, concerned frown deepening. He let his hand move from Lance’s forehead to his hair, flattening his bangs since he was the reason they were sticking up. “Coming down with something?” He asked.

Lance saw his opportunity to bolt. To scuttle off and let his feelings for Keith and Hunk overwhelm him in private.

“P-Probably,” Lance stuttered, taking a step back from Hunk. He ignored the hurt that flickered across his friend’s face. “I sh-should go find Coran. Maybe he’ll have some kind of medicine.” Lance was already leaving as he spoke, and he was out of the kitchen before Hunk could respond.

He was striding through the hall, head down and mind a muddled mess. Thoughts of Keith and Hunk and how he felt and how great they both were in their own way swirled in his head, resembling a tornado in how intense it was and destructive towards other thoughts.

As if he wasn’t struggling enough with two people, a third came crashing in—literally and figuratively.

“Woah there. You alright, Lance?” Shiro asked, gripping his shoulders as to steady him. He was all concerned grey eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “You were walking really fast. Is something wrong?”

_Everything’s wrong and your presence isn’t helping one bit,_ Lance thought.

“I-I was, uh—“ What _was_ he doing again? The heat in his face proved to be really distracting, along with Shiro’s gaze trained on him. He flickered his eyes to a spot behind Shiro, feeling himself focus a bit better. “Trying to find Coran!” He suddenly remembered. Licking his lips nervously, he continued, “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too well and thought Coran could help.”

Shiro’s mouth pulled into a frown as his hands travelled from Lance’s shoulders to his biceps unconsciously, gently gripping them. If he felt Lance fidget underneath his touch, he didn’t pay much attention to it, thinking it had something to do with his health. “It might not be as serious as you think,” Shiro reassured. “What’s the matter?”

“W-Well,” Lance stuttered, shifting his gaze to quickly glance at Shiro before focusing on the ceiling. “I… sometimes feel r-really warm, and, uh, l-light-headed… A-And my chest feels tight t-to the point that it’s hard to b-breathe,” he explained, feeling his heart thud loudly against his chest with every word. While it sounds obvious to him what his true condition was, he hoped that it could pass off as an actual illness to an outsider like Shiro. “S-Sometimes my stomach gets… kind of queasy, too...”

Shiro hummed. “That sounds pretty bad.” Lance nodded. “Are you feeling that now?” Lance bit his bottom lip, nodding again, but more hesitantly. There was another hum. Hands travelled down Lance’s arms and to his palms, fingers brushing against them. “Wow, you must be burning. Your hands are sweaty.”

_Nerves. It’s nerves, not my health,_ Lance thought. _Though, the nerves aren’t good my health._

“Let me feel your temperature.” That was the only warning Lance got before he felt a gloved hand and a metal one cupping his face, bringing it down so their foreheads could press together. His eyes were wide, similar to a deer in headlights, gaze steady as they stared into Shiro’s. Even though he was _tempted_ to gaze at the lips that were _oh-so close_ to his own, he stamped the urge into the ground. He couldn’t give himself away. Not to Hunk, not to Keith, and _definitely_ not to—

Lance noticed the knowing glint in grey eyes, coupled with laughter. _The bastard._

(He immediately apologized in his head for the name calling.)

Shiro knew. _Of course_ , he knew! Lance practically spelled it out for him. That he was experiencing crush symptoms and that that crush was very much on Shiro. He felt his ears and neck heat up, no doubt turning as red as his face. He felt so _embarrassed_ and _scared_. No one was supposed to find out. He had planned to live out the rest of his days wallowing and wishing and watching from afar. But now the idea was dashed.

Lance’s eyes began to water the more he thought about it, and he squeezed his eyes shut before the tears fell, roughly rubbing them. To his horror, he heard a soft chuckle. He bit back a cry.

Gentle hands gripped his wrists and tugged at them, but Lance was stubborn and kept his balled fists pressed against his eyes, not wanting to cry and not wanting to look at Shiro. _God, I must look like_ **_such_ ** _a baby_ , he thought. As if things weren’t bad enough.

“It’s okay, you know,” Shiro reassured, voice soft and dripping in sugary, sweet honey, soothing Lance against his wishes. “It’s more than okay.” His gaze was warm as he stared at Lance, even though Lance couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ see it. Silence fell between them, save for the occasional sniffle, and Shiro didn’t move for a few seconds. Then, he pressed his lips against Lance’s hot forehead, feeling him tense in his grip and hearing the sharp intake of breath. All was calm for a few moments until Lance finally snapped out of his petrified state, hand flying to press against the spot Shiro kissed.

_Oh, my God, Shiro_ **_kissed_ ** _me._

Lance spluttered what was some version of Shiro’s name, and spluttered some more at the amused curve of Shiro’s lips as he watched. _Why_ was he the only one freaking out?!

“Who else do you get _sick_ around?” Shiro asked, grinning all too teasingly, reminding Lance of the Cheshire Cat. “Or am I special?”

Lance was already exposed, so he didn’t hesitate to confess. “H-Hunk and… K-Keith,” he mumbled, feeling a weight lift off his chest.

Shiro whistled. Three crushes. Lance sure had a lot of love to give, but Shiro shouldn’t be so surprised. The boy had a huge heart and was always kind to others. But still, to have three crushes who are always in close vicinity? That’s pretty tough.

“Do they know about it?” Lance shook his head. “Why don’t you go rest in your room?”

Lance hesitated for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What was the point of going to “rest” if Shiro knew the truth? Maybe Shiro meant for him to take some time for himself. Seeing all of his crushes, and _then_ being found out did take a toll on him after all. Nodding his head, Lance walked past Shiro and made his way towards his quarters, trying his best to clear his mind so he could just relax.

Upon entering, he immediately toed off his shoes and tugged off his jacket, laying it at the end of his bed, which he slipped into. He felt his body sink into the mattress and his eyes flutter shut. He didn’t think he was _that_ tired, but he could already feel his breathing start to even out. Just as he was about to slip into sleep, he heard his door open again and people shuffle inside.

“Lance? Buddy?” He heard Hunk say softly, worry clear in his tone. Lance rolled to his left side, facing Hunk.

And Keith. And Shiro.

_Shiro._

“What…. are you all doing here?” Lance asked, feeling his heart begin to race at the fact that he was in such a small space with all three of his crushes.

“Shiro told us you haven’t been feeling well,” Keith explained, a frown tugging at his lips. Despite his crossed arms and grumpy aura, Lance could tell that he was also concerned, and he felt fluttering in his stomach.

“Did he now?” Lance managed to grit out, staring hard at Shiro, who wouldn’t even meet his gaze, only serving to make Lance more irritated.

No one else noticed the exchange.

“I thought you were going to Coran for some medicine.” Hunk’s voice pulled Lance’s attention. “What happened?”

Even though Lance opened his mouth, it was Shiro who answered. “I told him it was nothing a little rest and TLC couldn’t fix.”

“T...L...C?” Keith’s head tilted in confusion. “Is that… a specific kind of medicine?”

“It’s the best kind,” Shiro said. “Tender love and care.” There was silence. _“Affection,_ Keith.”

“Like cuddles,” Hunk helpfully supplied, already toeing off his shoes to climb into Lance’s bed. Despite Lance shaking his head, stuttering a mantra of _“I-I’m fine, re-really!”_ , Hunk crawled over him to lay behind him, settling down before spooning Lance.

“But what if we get sick, too?” Keith muttered, seemingly disgusted but Shiro noticed the way his fingers dug into his arms and the constant shifting of his weight. He was anxious, wanting to join, but not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundaries. After all, Hunk was a lot closer to Lance than he was.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Shiro reassured. He placed an encouraging hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t you want to help Lance get better?”

“....As long as it helps.” Keith uncrossed his arms, toed off his boots, and made his way towards the bed.

Lance didn’t protest, pressing as close as he could to Hunk to give Keith room. But Keith didn’t need room for he curled up as close as he could to Lance’s front, head tucked underneath Lance’s chin and arm wrapped around where Hunk’s wasn’t. Lance was silent as he took in his situation. In just a day, he went from suffering alone in his pining to _cuddling_ his crushes under the pretense that he was ill.

All because of Shiro.

At the thought, Lance’s gaze flitted to Shiro, who was observing the situation with a soft expression. Lance wondered if there were other feelings, besides his own, amidst. They made eye contact after a few seconds, and Lance was quick to let Shiro know how he felt. With a (half-hearted) glare, a frown that was more similar to a pout, and a face as red as a rose, he mouthed, _“I hate you.”_

Yet Shiro just laughed, brushing the words aside. “No, I’m pretty sure you like me. Those two, too.” He gestured to the bodies curled around Lance. Before Lance could protest more, Shiro closed the distance between him and Lance’s bed in three quick, precise steps. He leaned down to press a second chaste kiss to Lance’s forehead, and whispered, “Just enjoy it.”

Pulling away, Shiro gave them another glance before backing up, heading towards the door. He still had a few things to take care of, despite wanting to join the cuddle puddle in Lance’s bed. Being the leader of Team Voltron was never a peaceful job. Just as the door slid open, he heard Lance call out to him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back soon to join,” Shiro reassured, avoiding Lance’s question.

Lance watched him leave with a wink, the door closing shut in front of him. _He probably has some missions to go over_ , he thought as he rested his cheek against Keith’s hair, which was surprisingly soft. _Keith’s hair._ Lance still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he was cuddling both Hunk _and_ Keith, but he stamped out the disbelief to fully appreciate the rare opportunity, wrapping an arm around Keith and dragging him closer, like he was trying to meld them together. But Keith didn’t mind in the slightest if the way he wiggled closer, nose buried in Lance’s neck, was any indication.

Lance smiled as he pressed himself closer to Hunk, leeching off his body heat. He put his free arm on top of Hunk’s, hesitantly intertwining their fingers, smile growing as he felt a gentle squeeze.

Later on, he’ll moan and gripe and die of embarrassment. Maybe hang out excessively with Pidge to avoid them. But for now, he let his eyes flutter close and his mind wander, daydreams that’ll turn into dreams soon enough about the four of them happy together infiltrating his thoughts.

Looks like he was dreaming about boys tonight. Again.

(And he didn’t mind it one bit.)


End file.
